


Bury my heart six feet under, throw us a funeral

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Moriah Codas: A Trilogy [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Funeral, M/M, Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 04:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Castiel sat with his head bowed, his hands covering his expression.He insisted that they take Jack’s body.  It took most of his grace to fly all of them away from the graveyard, but it was worth it to him.





	Bury my heart six feet under, throw us a funeral

**Author's Note:**

> My 100th fanfic! The title was taken from the song “Funeral” by Zara Larsson.

Castiel sat with his head bowed, his hands covering his expression.

He insisted that they take Jack’s body. It took most of his grace to fly all of them away from the graveyard, but it was worth it to him.

He had to be honest: God being evil? He didn’t see that one coming.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about being a pawn in an unwinnable game. The sacrificial lamb, the hero who receives no glory or thanks.

A tragic character in a story about angels and demons and corrupted gods.

None of that mattered. Castiel knew they were just a story to be messed with, but everything felt so ridiculously real it didn’t compute to him.

He lost Jack. The boy that Castiel promised Kelly he would nurture and protect.

Jack was trying to be good, to do good, in his own way. He was twisted into something else, due to outside forces beyond his control.

Castiel rubbed his temples, his back aching as he stayed in one spot for hours, undisturbed by anyone.

He removed his hands from his face, and he laid eyes on Jack. He laid along a table in whatever abandoned house Castiel flew them to, whatever place spelled safety in his mind.

He hadn’t expected to go to the house where it all began, where Kelly died and Castiel helped her prepare it for Jack’s arrival.

It was poetic, almost.

But Castiel knew this could be one of Chuck’s tricks. One of the moments he wrote, meant to elicit a reaction out of him.

Castiel could not bring himself to think on the finer points of his chosen destination.

His vision began and ended with Jack, lying on the table where he once laid, a pink sheet over him.

Castiel did not put a sheet over Jack. He wanted to look at him, at his burned eyes and hollow cheeks and pale face.

This boy was his son. He was the only person that Castiel allowed to penetrate his walls, erected high and firm after Dean.

Where was Dean and Sam?

He hadn’t seen them in hours.

Oh well. Castiel was not worried. Their silence and disappearance from this room was to be expected.

Did Dean really hate Jack? Did Sam? Was Castiel a fool for bringing back the body?

Castiel looked upon Jack, and sighed deeply.

He would bury Jack himself.

Castiel rose to his feet, everything inside of him aching and screaming. He felt like he just aged another millennia in seconds.

Nevertheless, Castiel reached out numbly, his arms dipping under Jack’s legs and upper back. He closed his eyes, and he lifted Jack into his arms, holding back a sob.

Jack was his child. He was holding his dead child in his arms.

He looked into orbs of nothing, and breathed heavily.

Castiel walked like it was his death sentence, like his reaper was taking him to his doom, coming to collect at long last.

Castiel made it outside of the house numbly, his eyes watering as he strode forward, into the trees and grass and unknown.

When he got far enough from Kelly’s house, he dropped to a crouch, laying Jack on a lush patch of grass. He stood shakily and found enough fallen branches to create a pyre.

Castiel gathered branches in complete silence, the night air indicating it would be dawn soon, sooner than he had hoped.

The pyre was complete as black went to purple went to red went to orange, the sun beginning to rise on a brand new day.

Castiel realized that his face was wet with tear tracks, drying and returning in an endless cycle.

The sun made his face especially wet, but he could not bring himself to wipe his tears away. They would be a reminder for all that he had lost, and all that he could never have.

Castiel completed the funeral pyre, and stooped to Jack’s level. He gathered his son in his arms once more, and laid him down comfortably on the branches.

If Jack’s eyes were not missing, he would look peaceful.

Castiel absently allowed a fresh set of tears to wet his cheeks, sniffling in the silence.

As he went to grab a lighter, he realized there were blisters on his hands.

He hadn’t even felt them.

Castiel paused in his task and picked them all out one by one, feeling a slight sting as each was removed from his palms.

Once the final blister was removed, he used a drop of grace to heal the pricks in his skin. It wouldn’t be ideal to be injured in a strange and uncertain time such as now.

Castiel got back to his task, taking out a lighter from the inside of his trench coat. He flicked it open with his thumb, watching the flame blaze.

Castiel had the sudden urge to burn the whole wicked world down with him, so he didn’t have to feel pain anymore.

He walked with heavy feet to the funeral pyre, taking one last look at Jack before the flame ghosted a branch, catching fire.

Castiel stepped back, the flames licking his skin hair, burning his tears and stinging his eyes.

He stared at the lighter flame for a long moment, then snapped it closed.

He put the lighter back in his trench coat pocket, clenching his fists at his sides. He watched the fire spread, until he smelled nothing but smoke and saw nothing but Jack’s silhouette.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, and how long he remained crying silently, but he heard rustling footsteps coming from behind him.

He tilted his head to the side, and clenched his jaw.

Dean and Sam drank in the scene, and Castiel didn’t miss their contempt.

The hours apart, it seemed, did not calm either of them down.

Sam watched the flames burn Jack in the hunter’s funeral Castiel had created for himself, and said nothing.

As for Dean, he was visibly disturbed. “If they see the smoke,” he said harshly, “they’ll find us!”

Castiel suddenly felt so angry, so sick, so bereaved, that he tasted salt tears and barked, “GOOD!”

Castiel felt like a bomb with a lit fuse, and he realized how tired he was of everything. He let tear tracks linger across his face, and hoped that they both saw.

He swallowed thickly, and blinked, biting his lips and forcing them silent. He shook his head, sniffling, and watched the pyre emit smoke into the atmosphere.

He forgot about them standing there, and took measured steps towards the pyre. He halted close, almost close enough for the flames to burn his arms and set him alight.

Castiel spoke to Jack lowly. “This house was meant to be yours. Kelly and I made it for you.” He felt more moisture prickle his eyes. “You were meant to grow up in these woods. You were meant to play and laugh and be happy. I was supposed to teach you how to control your powers.” He was reminded of another life, when he was young and the world was an infant. “I remember what it’s like. Being afraid of yourself. What you can do. I tried to help you as best as I could. I got too,” he recalled the crippling love he had for Dean, and felt even sicker, “caught up in my own problems. I should have been around more often. But you see,” he gasped out a heavy breath, “it hurt to be with them, sometimes. It hurt to love him, and you suffered as a result.” Castiel felt bitter, and cold, and ashamed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I failed in my mission. Tell your mother I’m sorry too. You were only trying to help. I understand how they tried to take advantage of your kindness.” Castiel barked out a harsh laugh, and wiped away a tear. “That’s the story of my life. I’m sorry it was your story too.” He backpedaled and said, “I love you, son.”

Castiel took a long shaky exhale, and cried more, silent and slow.

He realized a moment too late that Dean and Sam had not left, like he expected them to.

He heard footsteps get closer, and he tensed like a wild animal, hugging himself a little for some semblance of protection.

“Cas,” Sam said, barely a whisper.

“Don’t,” he said bitterly, staring at the flames and how it looked like a puddle with wet eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

Castiel felt like a child for the blind love he had for Dean. He was the one who was silent now, the one who had grown cruel, the one that wanted to kill his son.

The atmosphere had grown intense, and quiet, and Castiel watched the pyre, smelled the smoke and heard the crackling fire.

Dean appeared in the right corner of his eye, and Castiel gritted his teeth. He gathered the strength to look, to let Dean look and see him crying and realize what had happened, what they had done and what could never be, not now, not ever.

Dean was so pale he was practically a ghost, and Castiel could not bring himself to feel concerned.

“Thank you,” Dean said quietly, “for saving us from a horde of zombies.”

Castiel snorted, and stared at the funeral pyre, turning the other cheek. “You’ve gone past the point of no return,” he said gravely. “I hope you know that.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, his gaze boring into Castiel’s left side.

Castiel didn’t look at either of them as he said, “once we kill the dead, I’m done.”

The silence threatened to choke them all.

Castiel waited the appropriate amount of time, allowing it to fester, making sure Sam and Dean got the message.

Then, he revealed, “I signed away my death warrant in exchange for Jack’s life.”

Dean and Sam visibly bristled.

“I will beg my reaper to take me,” Castiel said hollowly, “once it’s all over. You will never see me again, and you will be happier for it.”

“Happy?” Sam furrowed his brows, pain flashing across his eyes. “I think not.”

“Cas,” Dean said softly, “you can’t possibly mean that.”

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes, and felt a million emotions at once.

Dean nearly blushed under the weight of his gaze, shifting from foot to foot.

Castiel said, “I’ve fallen out of love with you.”

Dean forgot how to breathe, and his breath hitched, and his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open the slightest bit.

Dean didn’t even know Castiel loved him in the first place.

“I was a fool,” Castiel said numbly, “for loving you. It was unhealthy.” He stepped towards the pyre, watching the flames recede. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know who he was apologizing to. Jack, Sam, Dean, himself. Perhaps all of the above.

A section of the pyre had stopped burning entirely, and Castiel knew Jack was nothing but ash now.

Castiel cupped his palm, sinking his fingers into an ash pile. He ignored the heat of the flames, singeing the last of his tears, as he got a helping of ash in one hand. He raised his palm, wishing he could take a piece of Jack away with him.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Castiel splayed his fingers apart, watching the ash fall between them and back onto the pyre.

Determination filled his being in a wave, strong and tumultuous.

He clenched his palm into his fist, and turned to face Sam and Dean head on.

“We need to amass weapons,” Castiel said, his usual fire returning. “All kinds. Any kind. All of them.”

Castiel smelled smoke and burnt death, the smell of Jack, gone and reduced to dust, and stalked away, leaving his son to burn a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
